Tuesday, July 31, 2007

High School Confidential

I've said before that I don't think that the blogosphere is like high school, or, at least, that the corner of the blogosphere that is populated by parents is like high school. Hell, I just said it just the other day, on public record, in front of a room full of bloggers, some of whom who were probably thinking that were it not for the facts that I wore no scrunchie in my hair and was not running for school president, I would otherwise bear an uncomfortable resemblance to Tracy Flick, and possibly also one or two Heathers.

(You may, in fact, be thinking that now. That's okay. I understand. But hands off my virtual scrunchie.)

I stand by what I wrote last year, and what I said at the Momosphere panel at BlogHer: the momosphere is not like high school. It's not like any high school that I ever attended, anyway. Nobody actively shuns or excludes anybody else. Nobody's getting pantsed in the locker room, or spat on in the smoke pit, or shoved in a locker. Nobody is prancing down the hall, looking down their noses, swinging their hair and letting their purses knock the glasses off of freshmen who don't know well enough to get out of the way. It's not high school here. It's really not.

But I have to concede that it might, for some people, feel that way. Especially now, in the wake of the party of the year - BlogHer is prom and Homecoming and grad night (and more than a little bit of band camp) all rolled into one - when everybody is talking about who did what and where and who slept with whom and why and omg were you there when they put panties on HBM's head?

It's feeling that way for me, a little bit. I'm saying that, obviously, as someone who was there, as someone who was in the thick of it, as someone, maybe, who swung her hair a little bit as she pranced about with her girlfriends (and - it must be said - with their babies. And their moms. Which would have cut down whatever sliver of glamour we were hoping to exude, were it not for that fact that those babies were so heart-burstingly adorable and that mom so super mega-awesome.) But I'm saying it because I felt it; because I am feeling it, now, in retrospect.

And so it is that as I write this, even, some of you are cruising the halls of the Internets, listening to the whispers and giggles and feeling left out, feeling excluded, even, from the experience of not getting to know someone that you maybe wanted to get to know better. I wanted to get to know so many of you better. I missed getting to know so many of you better, so many of you who were there, in addition to the great, great many who were not. (Don't even get me started on linking you all. CANNOT DO IT. The potential for missed-link angst is far, far too great. Also, my poor tired fingers. Many of you know who you are, most of you don't, but I just can't go there. Someday you'll hear it from me personally.) So much so that I can say this in all honestly: I feel a tiny bit of relief that some of you who couldn't make it, didn't make it. That you weren't there.

Because - because you weren't there - I can't feel that I missed an opportunity that was right in front of my nose, as I did with so many. I can avoid feeling guilty about not having spent enough time with you, about not having slowed down enough to exchange more than a few words. About having chosen to have lunch with someone other than you. About having not had the time to discover whether you and I could be heart-friends, too.

Because I really think that we could, you and I - the yous who were there and the yous who were not. Be heart-friends. But there are so many of you, and so little time and so little space in this world that we call real life. In the long, tight hallways and crowded lunch-rooms of real life, where you'll notice if I don't look your way. Where I notice if I haven't looked your way.

So. I cried a lot upon my return. I cried because I felt torn by conflicting emotions. Gutted at having said goodbye to some of the dearest friends I know, some of whom are moving even further out of my real-life reach. Rueful at not having spent enough time sharing this adventure with my really-real-life girlfriends (who, it must be said, barely noticed that I was not in my usual place at their side, so much was the fun being had with the rest of you). Heart-sore at having missed so many opportunities to deepen existing friendships, and to make new ones. And this: relieved to be back in the wide-open spaces of the Internets, where the lunchrooms are bigger and the hallways wider and there is so much more room for everyone. Where you all are, always, and me, too, always, roaming and talking.

And never, ever getting lost in the middle of nowhere.

Where the whispers and giggles carry further, or can or should carry further, where we have all the time and space in the world to be, maybe, friends. Where you'll forgive me if I sometimes seem to huddle, if I sometimes seem to not notice, if I sometimes seem to breeze by in the hallway. Because I don't mean to. I don't want to. It's just, sometimes, there are so many voices, so many stories, and my heart can only stretch so far at once. Our hearts can only stretch so far at once.

At least here, in this space, there is room for stretching, and the will to stretch. That's why it's not like high school. Not in the ways that matter.

We all only had two days to meet over 800 women, everyone knows that's impossible. But you said it better than any of us could have. I left with dozens upon dozens of cards and have blogmet so many new friends I'll have a whole new hot mess of women to deal with next year.

You wrote so much of what was on my mind and articulated some of the frustrations and regret. There are only so many hours in so many days and really - the losses were ours.

But while we were putting panties on your head, other people were getting yelled at by security, or sucking down a fourth cosmo, or eating sushi or meat on a stick, or passing out early and quietly with their babies for the first time in months. My sense was a good time was had by all.

While I found BlogHer to be less overwhelming this year in that I didn't have to introduce myself to everyone except my roommate, I found it more overwhelming in that there truly wasn't enough time to seek out every last person I came there wanting to meet - let alone every last person whom I'd never even read before but might absolutely adore if I ever got the chance to say more than two words to them - in addition to spending time with those whom I do already consider to be my heart-friends.

But I'm thrilled to have made the rounds as well as I did, and I know I'll have that many more new blogfriends waiting to be met next year.

And moosh is right - OHIO is the middle of nowhere, right next door to Indiana.

You articulated it so well. I was one who felt a little on the outs when I first arrived, since I arrived later than most everyone. I was okay by the end of the evening, but then bummed all over again that I had only signed up for one day. It wasn't enough time.

As someone who didn't get to go to BlogHer, I loved this post! It made me feel as though my absense didn't go unnoticed (even though, in all honesty, very few people in the blogosphere even know of me).Thanks for this!

Welcome back to the greater bloggy world! The lunch table here really is large enough for everyone, even those (particularly those?) who didn't attend BlogHer (says the girl who, once upon a time, lurked in the corridors at lunch, dressed exclusively in sad black dresses and Docs laced up to here, peeking over the edge of her Tolstoy at the Heathers passing by).

And one time at band camp...Sorry, I couldn't resist since you brought up band camp. Do you remember what movie that was from?

I digress.

This is a great post. I know that there was some talk about BlogHer feeling "high school". I had some moments where I felt like odd man out in a group of women who have history and a secret handshake but that's okay with me. Like you said, your high school was not the kind of experience that some bloggers are complaining about. My high school was like that but it didn't get to me. I was a free spirit. I didn't hang out with a certain group. I had friends who were popular, burn-outs, cheerleaders, nerds, goth and so on. My close friends were a little bit of all those groups. That was MY experience so BlogHer was much the same for me. I didn't hang out with one specific group. The bloggers I feel closest to happen to not hang in the same clique. My observation about the high school thing is that those who are not good friends with those who are perceived as being on top, the most fun, the smartest, the best writers, the luckiest, blah, blah, blah, often feel left out of the group they want to be part of. Maybe a connection hasn't been made or that group doesn't know a particular person well enough to actively include them. It FEELS like exclusion. For example, say there is another group in the same room as the desired group. They may not actively include others in the room but it goes unnoticed because they are not as important to the jilted feeling party of the first group. Does that make sense? Basically what I'm trying to say is there are always going to be people who want to be part of a certain group and will get their feelings hurt if they feel excluded although that group did nothing to actively exclude them.

I was so glad to read this. I'm new to this blogging thing, and am overwhelmed by the enormous community. I've been feeling a lot like I'm in high school, just got a wedgie, and am lost in a sea of popular girls who all know my underwear have been yanked up my butt crack. Time to take a deep breath, have a beer, and be patient. Thanks! Oh, and Mothergoosemouse was right, uh-HI-uh (Ohio to the rest of the country) IS the middle of nowhere. Since I live in central Ohio, that puts me in the middle of the middle of nowhere!http://momo-fali.blogspot.com

Thanks for writing this, C. I heart you too, and I also came away with a sense of guilt and regret. Realizing that there were so many people that I had wanted to have deep and meaningful relations with (oo-er) and instead only managed to talk (loudly) and not very interestingly to them--I was so fucking fried by the end, you know?

Seriously, it was nice to even breeze past you, to be able to spot your iBob from across the bustling conference hall, to see how beautifully WB favors you. And your MBT friends have stolen my heart away, at least a very large chunk of it.

Sigh. It does seem just a teensy bit like high school when you are on the outside looking in.

I can't find a way to articulate this because I blog and I know, it's your blog and these are your blog friends and you just spent days with them, so of course you want to post the pictures and share the love. I would do the same.

But not being at BlogHer and wishing I was, I was hoping for more info about the conference and less of the other stuff but because I love many of the bloggers you do, it's everywhere I look.

So I can look away and not read, right? Yeah, I can, but I don't want to.

I'm just not sure I agree it's not like high school, but regardless, it's my problem, not yours.

Binky - I posted the pictures because, well, I love the pictures. But the rest of the post was about my ambivalence around the feeling of high school. I have no doubt that it can *feel* like high school. What I wanted to communicate was that *I* don't want to contribute to that feeling, but sometimes it just might not be available. Such as, for example, when I post BlogHer pics...

Once again you astound the internet - or at least me - with your smarts. At first I was afraid of the 'high school' thing, but once there, those feelings pretty much abated. For me, I just get over those things and if I really want to talk to someone, I go up to them while they're donning a McDonald's hat and start speaking to them about internet communities while drunk.

It was so great to finally meet you and talk with you and I guess we can be friends too. ;-)

I am so glad that I got to meet you! You're just great! I thought what you said on the panel was very well articulated.

I don't think that everyone wants to get the same things out of BlogHer. That may be where some of the frustration is for people. I was really excited to go to it and I liked it a lot; I can't wait to go next year. That being said, I've only been blogging since September so for me the thing I was most looking forward to (other than uninterrupted sleep :)) was spending time with a few of my "real life" friends who blog and were going to BlogHer. I viewed it like a girls weekend away.

I met some fantastic people. I wish I could have had longer conversations and more conversations with other bloggers. I guess in that way it was like high school for me in that in high school I tried hard to branch out and meet other people. I was always really glad that I did it and wished I could do it more, but most of the time I was happy to just hang out with my same small group of friends. It went by so quickly!

I like what you've said here. For so many of us, blogging has turned out to be this wonderful thing. Freeing and affirming at the same time. That said, I started blogging in late 2005 and even though that seems as though it's been a while, I constantly compare myself to those who have been doing it twice as long and that often leaves me (and others) with the feeling that I arrived too late to a party where others have already made friendships/formed alliances and exchanged phone numbers. A setting like BlogHer where everyone is already "buddied up" can be intimidating. There are many who have come away from the experience who, despite earlier trepidation, have everything good to say about it afterward. A few come away with their fears reinforced and those are the ones to whom we often listen. Because it's easier than believing that there's a spot for us amongst the well-known and established. Maybe one day...I'll poke my head inside the tent and give it a try.

Even though I was severely disappointed when I found out I wasn't going to be able to go to BlogHer this year, I think a teeny part of me was relieved. Looking over last year's photos made me worry that I would be the girl going home having made no friends. But reading this makes me think that no matter how fleeting any meeting might have been, I would have been glad to have participated.

Next year, damn it! I want someone to put panties on my head for once!

Loved your post... that whole "high school" thing was part of what kept me from going to BlogHer this year, especially since I am still quite new at this. Seeing how bloggers like you make an effort NOT to be exclusive makes me want to go next year even more!

Sadly no evidence at least none that I've seen. And I was too focused on conversing with you and trying to understand the big words coming from you, to take a picture. Though I did see a photo of us somewhere on Flickr.

But I look pretty drunk and like I had consumed a large amount of french fries.

Wow, that was a really great post. I wanted to meet so many of you funny women/great writers, but can totally understand you wanting to hang with your friends you hardly get to see. Enjoyed you at the panel.

I really liked your analogy of a cocktail party, with circles intermingling and overlapping- you can also choose to stand by the wall near the dip the whole night or actively mingle. You don't expect everyone to make rounds to talk with everyone else, and if you really want to meet someone, you'll find a way.

I'm with you about feeling missed opportunities - love stories that could have been - but alas, if they didn't materialize, it just wasn't in the cards. With all love stories, I feel, comes a little bit of luck, and fate and perfect timing thrown in.

i don't know about high school and cocktail parties and all that stuf right now. all i know is you rock,. you rock for the obvious love you send out to so many people and for the amazing blog you have here.

I would have loved to have spent some time with you, the Goddess of blogging, HBM, but there were 800 friggin people there. I'm going to give you, myself & everyone else a break.

There were so many people I wanted to spend time with and just not enough time to do it. I had a fabulous time, but others were off having fabulousness too. It's not possible to be in all fabulous situations at once.

I have to admit there were a few times I felt all high school angsty, but then I got over myself & asked the cool kids if I could sit at their lunch table. And they said yes! So no, it wasn't like high school. Not at all.

There are only so many hours in the day, Catherine, and the conference was PACKED ... I know first hand that you barely slept and yet still did your best to chat with everyone.

But there were 800 people there! Taking time for quality time with those you know well rather than quantity time with every single attendee ... is a good choice. I ended up feeling so overwhelmed and scattered.

You have a big wonderful heart and this post is just more evidence of that.

Aw, honey, don't fret! In a way, the feelings that you describe were a consolation to me while I was not in attendance--I knew that there were so many people that I would want to meet and hang out with and get to know and love, and there simply would be no way to do that in one weekend.

Um, were you hired to provide entertainment or act as the official greeter? No?

Ok, maybe you aggressively avoided someone to whom you owed large sums of money? No?

Perhaps you fell asleep and your friends put shit on you? Well, yeah that did happen, but it has nothing to do with my point.

Everyone was equally an attendee at this conference and was allowed to make it what she wanted. No one is responsible for someone else's good time. Not even a mother her child's.

With 800 attendees and a packed agenda, it was hard to connect with everyone you might have wished to. Hell, I worked the BOF table the first day just so I would have a chance to at least say hello to everyone I wanted to, and I still missed some people.

No apologies necessary, but you have the real class to write this post anyway.

the high school mentality was quite a topic of conversation. i have to say, save one or two instances, blogher was only like high school in my mind. by which i mean i immediately slunk into my socially anxious shell and surrounded myself with a half-dozen trusted friends.

interestingly enough, i sat in one particular session--aimed towards fighting intolerance--in which the session was hijacked by a panelist who felt it very important to discuss the "A-List Status." But, for that, we all just laughed. Just like I would've done when I was 16.

I was so pleased to meet you at the Momosphere session--and I loved what you had to say. You are as eloquent a speaker as you are a writer. Cheers!

Catherine, please let me say as someone who was, for the most part, the shy girl in the corner, you were incredibly gracious. You may not have had time for much of a chat, but the time you did have, you were *present*. You did not make me feel like I was intruding on your good time when I wanted to say "hi" or like I was a lowly niner getting above herself by talking to a senior. You--and many other bloggers with highly identifiable names--made me feel like I mattered.

Of course, filming porn, hassling Americans about their chocolate techniques, and getting yelled at by security with your soul sisters helped too :) You are an amazingly generous group of women, and have nothing to apologize for.

I'll admit I had my moments of feeling like I was the girl sitting at the table next to the popular girls, but I got over it quickly.

After all, there's only so many seats at each table for lunch, only so many hours to spend time with some of the nearly 800 women in attendance, and somewhere in there we tried to pay attention to seminars, too. Two days is simply not enough time to do everything we want to do.

See, this is why I'm not bothered by the worries of being snubbed. It was all me - I could have pulled my chair over, but didn't, because I didn't want to barge in. No one did anything to make me feel unwelcome at all.

I think at heart, many of us are nervous geeks shyly coming out from behind our computers, hoping no one will point and laugh. And thankfully at BlogHer, no one did.

Oh, and I must disagree with Julie - Ohio is not the middle of nowhere. It is most certainly Indiana.

The possibility of reading comments (much less linking people like you mentioned) is too much. But I saw the one from Christina (who very sweetly brought her bundle over to me and introduced - I refrained from eating the toes off that baby) and was reminded that we stayed after for a long time at the first luncheon and couldn't stop talking.

Basically, thanks for pulling up a chair, my dear. It was fantastic and unplanned and damn, did we try to cure the world of all ills in that space of time.

i feel the blogosphere is actually a lot like high school - at least, it's a lot like high school felt for me. i'm not *unpopular*, but neither am i popular. and i just keep wishing the popular girls would like me and hang out with me. and then, i get a chance to meet them (like mocha) or exchange emails (like countless others, including you), and i realize they *do* like me, and *would* hang out with me if they could. and i wonder how long it'll take for them to realize that i'm actually not cool at all. :-P

I can't even read all the comments, that's how loved you are! It's ok to be popular. Isn't that what we strive for, in a way, by writing and making it public? I mean, you CAN'T be good "heart" friends with 70 people! It's almost impossible to really keep up with that many extra blogs (and I have more than that on my bloglines!)

But that was really sweet of you to write such a nice post. And, in that respect, you are SO LIKE my h.s.'s homecoming queen: she was the nicest and sweetest girl. I think she is currently in South America doing mission work, now that she's no longer working with the handicapped. I kid you not.

Hmm... I guess that would make me a high school drop out. I'm sorry to have missed you all and the ensuing hotel hijinx. It never occured to me that so many of us would be bringing their newborns along. Rookie mom mistake ;o)

HBM- I found myself in my hotel room just before the Thursday mixer hearing a small voice in my head say, "I bet there is something really good on HBO, why don't I just stay here and find out," rather than venture into the dark, crowded depths of the Whiskey Sky bar. But, it seems like those things that take an extra ounce or two of courage always end up feeling more rewarding.

I had the anxiety, I felt it every second I was in Chicago...but I feel like I climbed Mt. Everest, having quieted the little voice begging me to snuggle up to the remote control, and instead hugged a few bloggy friends.

you know... I have to just say how timely this was. I'm new to blogging but it seems that the blogs I love to read most are all you "Blogher" gals. So, as you were all preparing for the con I, the humble little reader and irregular blog poster found myself, I admit, a bit miffed that the things that I had to say were JUST as important and blogher worthy too! But... like I said... I'm new to this. It's not so much that I want to be like all of you... really, your great, love you, love your hair- it's just that you have SO MANY PEOPLE LISTENING to what you SAY! And THAT'S what I hope for someday... because I sure as hell get enough of the cold shoulder from my two little urchins around here... I just want to be heard too. So thank you for acknowledging all us "little people"... someday we'll wear big girl panties too.

i had the usual anxiety of meeting people and being around soooo many people at once. most of the people i've never met or read because, i'm a lazy blogger. unfortunately or fortunately for me, on saturday evening, i felt comfortable and started to really enjoy the ride.then the whole show ended.

i'm okay with this and figure, i'll do a better job of connecting through the internet. besides, i'm better at relating to others online, when i'm not worrying about sweat poring off my face or what my next meal was going to be.

So I'm breaking my rule of never commenting on posts about the politics of blogrolls or whether or not I still act like I'm in highschool, or who's too popular or not popular enough, because such things just give me a headache.

But I have to say that aside from meeting you, one of the best things about my experience at BlogHer was that EVERYONE (the big popular bloggers, the people I'd never heard of, the mommy bloggers and the people who blog about things I'd never heard of -- did you meet the woman who blogs about pet insurance??? She was lovely, I have to see if I can figure out who she is) were all so very gracious and friendly. And it's true, I would spend 3 and a half minutes falling in love with someone, only to not run into her again for 36 hours. But on the flip side, whenever I found myself standing alone there were several other people alone for me to be-friend, even if briefly.

Next year, of course will be a different experience for me, because I won't arrive having NEVER met ANY bloggers before. Still, I'll likely manage to act like a middle-aged girlfriend and not a highschool drama queen. Difficult though that concept seems to be for some people.

Wonderfully said. It says a lot that you did the conference in your OWN way, and on your own time, and didn't get all wrapped up in it ... whatever "it" is these days. Good perspective, HBM. And thanks for not making the rest of us feel so totally left out after the wonderful weekend!

Having never made it to Blogher, I feel like I'd be like the new kid who just moved into town. It seems that everyone knows everyone already. I think I'd feel really, really nervous and self-conscious if I decided to go in the future.

Anyway, enough about me; I'm so glad you had a great time and totally understand what you mean about not having 'enough' time.

I really didn't feel like high school at all. What I felt like was that I just didn't have enough time. poeple were always running around everywhere meeting everyone, and so was I. It's hard to do that much socalizing without feeling a little disappointed in the quality of it. It seems like it was a lot more superficial (strictly in terms of time spent - not catty or anything) than it might have been if only there was more time. I met you briefly and you were nothing but pleasant. Thanks